Wapun Meadow 고기를 먹고 싶어 샤샤샤

She was young and beautiful, and he was aged and worn. It was startling to see the differences between them - she was a stunning expanse of night sky, and he was a cracked and barren wasteland. There was a part of him that wished he could have come across her in his youth. Perhaps she could have helped him - crafted him into something better than what he had become. It was a foolish thought, but one that drifted through his mind nevertheless. His life could have been so very different; it could have been better. 

Trying to cast the thoughts aside, the ghost moved to focus on their current situation, but he could not help but to realize how very young she was and how old he felt. She had so much ahead of her, and he wondered if life would tarnish her youth in the same manner that it had taken his own. Part of him resented his own upraising, for it had been nearly nonexistent. Simha had not raised him as his own; he had played the role of father until Kierkegaard had aged enough to fend for himself. Without Moz, he would not have survived as long as he had. A pang struck his heart as he recalled his sister with a strange fondness. The emotion was quick to elude him, though, as he tried to grasp what it might have been. It was better left alone - she had gone, and so had he. 

The inquisitive expression on the dark female's face brought a stabbing to his chest. He wished he could explain to her, but he did not have the words. Instead, he breathed outward and attempted a ghostly smile. It turned into something more akin to a grimace, but it was the attempt that mattered. He realized, with regret, that he should not have spoken at all. It did no good to plague her with the thoughts that weighed heavily on his mind. Instead, he attempted to force the hypotheticals from his mind and focus on his future, and the future of the pack that he had overtaken. It would be time for him to depart, he knew, but he would need the appropriate means. 

Flicking the tip of his tail, the pallid and rangy brute swung his head to face her with an intense expression. "You smell of seafoam," he remarked in a quiet rumble. "Do you live near the water?" he then inquired with an awkward twist of his mouth. If he were to ever find her again, he realized that he would require a starting point for tracking. The questioning look on her own face was forgotten for a moment. He only hoped that he could keep the conversation away from his own blunders.